Games of Skill and Chance - Life
by Jaye Reid
Summary: Chess is a game of skill. Life perhaps a game of chance. But is it? It all depends on who is controlling the pieces.


Games of Skill and Chance – Life.

By Jaye Reid.

Written: 12 – 20.02.2000

Disclaimer: Hal's toys. Not mine. Perhaps we could get him to establish a toy library out of the offices of Southern Star? You know, where you can borrow them legitimately for a couple of weeks like you can with other toy libraries?

Authors notes: Rachel always tried to keep her emotional side locked away from sight. But every now and again she let her guard down and we saw a totally passionate, mischievous side to her character.

Despite that fact that several people have written diary pieces, this is my first one.

It is intended to follow on after the episode "Dangerous Encounters."

Thanks to Sonia for suggesting the preview of an emotional introspective glance at Rachel would best suit diary format and to Erin for her inspiring reaction to that small snippet as well.

~*~*~*~

Rachel threw her keys on the sidetable as she flicked on the loungeroom light. She put away the Nintendo that David had left lying on the couch earlier in the evening, and glanced around the room. Tidy enough she decided. Leaving the light on (so it at least looked like she was still up) she headed to her bedroom.

Goldie flopped down on her bed and lay there, gazing up at the ceiling. She caught the heel of one shoe with her other foot and levered her shoes off. They hit the floor with a thud. Finding some inner strength she rolled herself over, clicked on the bedside light and scavenged in the drawer for her diary and pen. 

It had been a couple of weeks since she had bothered to write anything, but the need to now seemed overwhelming.

~*~

I'm exhausted. Well part of me is I think. The other part is still running on pure adrenalin. It's only been 24 hours.

24 hours ago I was joking with Jack about wanting some guy at the bar. Between then and now I could have died a dozen times over. I wonder why the hell I'm still doing all of this? It could have been my body lying on the slab instead of that psycho. Mine or Jacks. Or both. Not that we'd have been found yet if Cooper had defeated us.

Why don't I just give it all away? I could've done. Gone off with Frank.

Everyday I run the risk of not seeing the next. I never usually think about it. Not really. Well I don't let myself think about it. But after today?

If I had gone, I wouldn't be facing the risk of death everyday. Well… perhaps that isn't totally true. I mean Frank *is* the one navigating. And that's seriously questionable.

No, can't throw it in. Before maybe, but not now. Not when I think I've finally got Jack trained. Couldn't very well leave him to his own devices.

I was glad Jack was there. Well not glad… I'd have been happier if neither of us had been there. But if I had to go through that, then hell, I don't think I'd want anyone else there other than Jack.

Jack killed him. We both know that. The bastard didn't just die. But it will never be spoken of. Well not by me anyway. Jack is always so damn cool, calm and collected. So 'Mr. by the Book'. That wasn't by the book, it was *so* not like him. But I guess when you have a looney trying to kill you, the rule book gets thrown out the window. Cooper was intent on… hell I still shudder when I think how damn close I came, we both came. And Jack stopped him. We both know he went a step further than he had to. Cooper didn't just fall on that star post, Jack drove his body down on it, purposefully. I mean we both knew he wasn't going anywhere, but Jack made double sure of it. He lost it, just for a split second. Just long enough.

It just seems like it's one thing after another these days.

Then I went and kissed him.

I don't know where the hell that came from. I just had this… rush. If we had been back here or his place… anywhere *other* than the office. Ha! Frank and I once joked about his desk or mine, but the way I felt earlier. I just looked at Jack and well, his desk was looking pretty good there for a few seconds. I must be depraved. 

I feel like such a bitch. Yesterday I was trying to convince him I didn't want him. That I wasn't even vaguely interested. But only a couple of hours ago, I would have taken him on. There and then. I wish I could figure out why?

I'm lost in a sea of confusion. What do I really want? What are my options?

Do I know how to recognise them anyway?

How do I decide? Lover or friend. Lover or just someone to give a passing glance, in the hallway of life. Lover or… nothing? Can I cope with nothing? Do I want to?

Nights of passion. Or nights of *dreams* of passion.

I wonder if he will come around? I just keep looking at the damn clock. Wondering. I want him to. Try not to think about it – I keep telling myself, in case he doesn't. Isn't that just crazy?

But what if he does? I hate this feeling. I *really* hate this. I'm worse than a bloody teenager. And I don't even remember being like this as a teenager. Not for real. Not as if there was anyone in my life then. Well I guess I met Jonathan when I was still too bloody young.

Jack.

I *do* want him. Well I *think* I want him. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe it's Helen's voice rattling around in my head about not mixing work and pleasure. Not as if I ever listened to that advice. I mean Kevin and John were both prime examples of me not listening to that theory. But look how *those* attempts turned out. Hell, maybe Helen is right. Or maybe third time lucky? Oh I don't know. All I do know is that when I'm with Jack everything feels right. I feel good about myself and the world. I feel… I don't know exactly how to describe it really… complete perhaps.

I just read back over this. I really *don't* know what I'm doing! I feel so out of control. I HATE not being in control.

What is it about me when I am in… NO!

Don't go there. Don't say it, don't even *think* it. I can't be. I told myself never again. But maybe…

There is only one person who I can talk to about this. I have a postcard with an address for the next month or so. It arrived yesterday. I think I will write. He was with me all the way with the total cock-ups I made of my previous relationships. I can always trust him to get an honest opinion. Sometimes too honest. But that is what I need right now. Maybe that is why I am such a mess at the moment. He isn't around to talk this through with me over a couple of beers and a pizza.

Well it's now half past 10. I thought that if he was coming, he would have been here by now. Actually I think I was hoping that he would be here when I got home from dropping David back. Where is he? There's a knot in my stomach, knots in my throat. It's like I'm holding my breath but I'm not. But that's how it feels. Maybe I'm going crazy. Maybe its just a reaction from everything that has happened over the last day? No. I know what it is and only Jack can fix this.

Well he is the only one I want to fix it.

When did this happen to me? How did he sneak right in there when I wasn't looking? I can't believe that my heart has fallen in – oh I heard a car door – I think! Is it… oh hell I hope – doorbell, yep!

~*~

The diary and pen were tossed in the drawer and Rachel bolted down the stairs, two at a time.

"Jack?" she asked cautiously through the closed door. Her heart in her throat.

"Nah… Toothfairy," came his reply.

She smiled.

"Ah sorry, no missing teeth here," she said cheekily.

He could *hear* the smile in her voice.

"Well it can be arranged if you don't open the door," he replied. "I moonlight as a police sergeant you know."

Rachel opened the door wishing she could look serious. She bit the inside of her cheek to try and control the smile spreading across her face, but it was a hopeless task. One glance at Jack and she was a goner.

"Sorry I'm late, the report took ages," he offered by way of excuse. He held up an expensive bottle of red "then I had to buy this."

She looked at the bottle and nodded before looking him up and down. She gave him a puzzled frown.

"Where's the outfit?" she asked.

"What?"

"You know, the outfit? Toothfairy? I sorta envisaged a little satin number and a tulle skirt – in pink of course."

"Oh *that* outfit. Well it's at the drycleaners at the moment," he said nodding seriously.

"Mmmm right then," she replied, just as seriously.

"Are you going to invite me in or am I going to stand out here all night?" he continued.

Rachel smiled mischievously and held out her hand.

He took it and followed her inside, closing the door behind him.

"Do you mind if we have the wine after?" she asked.

"After?"

Rachel pulled Jack to her before wrapping herself closely to him and kissing him in a way guaranteed to ensure loss of breath.

"Yeah," she whispered as she released his lips from hers. "After."

"The wine can wait," he smiled.

"Good," she replied, "because I can't."

The End.


End file.
